Holding Heaven
by Inari2
Summary: Isumi and Waya's first time. Deidcated to the Hikago Yaoi ML.


Title: Holding Heaven Author: Rylan Rating: R Pairings: IsuWaya/WayaSumi, some *really* mild AkiHika hintings Warnings: Fluff, sap, some angst. Author's notes: My first finished Hikago fic. Isumi and Waya's 'first,' too. Can't decide if it's set before or after Isumi becomes a pro. After, I think, because I can only write Post China Trip Isumi. Waya's sort of uke-- more uke than I usually see him, but I'll make him seme in the next pic I do. Dedicated to the Hikago Yaoi list! Do enjoy.  
  
***  
  
Waya sat back against the cool brick wall and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of it against his back. He smiled as he absently rubbed the pads of his first and second fingers against his thumb; he'd won four times with those fingers today. Shindo had won three times, and Isumi two, and it was Isumi's turn to treat again. Shindo had insisted on Ramen, against Waya's adamant protests, but Isumi-san didn't seem to mind.  
  
The other two boys were sitting at a Ramen cart, Shindo chatting happily and Isumi glancing back and forth from the enthusiastic young Pro to the lightly resting Waya. Shindo went on about all sorts of things-- about how he'd beaten this geezer or that geezer; about how good the Ramen was, about how he liked it when Isumi-san treated them; and about Touya.  
  
The very name made Waya bristle, but the look on his friend's face when the name came off his lips made Waya want to deal with it. It was that glowing, shining look, Waya thought to himself, that Shindo gave. It was the look that made you want to feel what Shindo felt, made you want to walk with Shindo on the path of life, made you want to suffer when he suffered, triumph when he triumphed. It was the look of potential, of purity. It made you want to journey Shindo's journey. But, of course, Waya couldn't do that. Shindo's road led straight to Touya.  
  
"Saa, Waya. We're leaving." Shindo shouted, half stepping away from the Ramen stand. Waya nodded and got up. Isumi paid the vendor and thanked him politely, and the trio started down the busy Tokyo street.  
  
"Thanks, Isumi-san." Waya grinned up at the older Insei, his eyes sparkling with the adoration that always seemed to creep into them when the quiet boy was around.  
  
"Yeah, thanks again, Isumi-san." Shindo grinned back at them, his arms folded behind his head.  
  
"It's nothing, really." Isumi offered back to the two, his dark eyes curved upwards in a smile.  
  
The three walked like that, Waya and Isumi side by side with Shindo two paces ahead of them. Occasionally Shindo would turn and look to his side, staring up at something that wasn't there. Waya wondered what Shindo saw that they didn't.  
  
"Ne, Waya, Shindo-kun." The oldest Insei's voice was even, calm. It made Waya feel...feel something Was it safer? Waya unconsciously moved a little closer to the taller Pro, content with just hearing his voice.  
  
"Do you two want to come to my house? We can play for a little while." Waya brightened at this.  
  
"I can, Isumi-san." At this Isumi smiled, and Waya could have sworn that he saw a blush creep across the dark-eyed boy's pale features.  
  
Shindo's eyes glazed over and he looked to his side again. He shook his head and looked back at the two. "I've got some things to do." Shindo looked at his watch, and his eyes flickered that shining look.  
  
"Sou ka na..." he whispered to himself. "Sorry, I gotta go!" and with that he bounded down the street, narrowly dodging hapless salarymen and women carrying groceries or children. "Mata na!" he shouted back as an afterthought, still running.  
  
The two remaining Pros paused simultaneously, a little confused. Waya shrugged at the sweatdropping Isumi and the two walked on.  
  
***  
  
Waya cleared the stones, his eyes a little unfocused as he went over the game in his head. It was a good game; he was black and Isumi-san was white, and though Isumi had the lead for most of the game, Waya outpaced him during yose and ended up winning by .5 moku. He placed the lids on the tsuba with a soft click, watching with interest as Isumi made tea in his kitchen.  
  
Waya rested his head on his balled fists and wondered at how many times that day he'd found himself staring at the older Pro. It bothered him, and it didn't bother him. You weren't supposed to look at your best friends like that. You weren't supposed to notice the subtle softness of their lips, the casual fall of their hair over their eyes, which, of course, were beautiful. Like a starry night sky. You weren't supposed to notice their easy grace of movement, their slender form as they walked--no, glided next to you. You weren't supposed to want to...want to...  
  
"Waya, are you okay?" Waya jumped a little, surprised by the taller boy's sudden closeness. He looked away--surely he was blushing--and tried to stammer out an answer. He managed a 'yes' somehow, but though he couldn't see the older Pro's face, he knew that the boy looked skeptical.  
  
"You look warm." Isumi's brow furrowed as he leaned forward to press his hand against Waya's forehead. With anyone else, the gesture would have been awkward, but Isumi never felt that way when he was with Waya. They were close, like...like...  
  
Isumi pulled his hand away quickly and bit his lip to stop those thoughts from coming up again. "You don't have a fever." Isumi felt his breath quickening as his eyes involuntarily passed over Waya's form. Over his lax position, his bare arms and slightly arched neck, over his blush- tinted face. Isumi wondered at how Waya seemed to fit there, in his house, with him, like a distraction that molded so well with everything that was him. The younger boy had that strange, stirring effect on him--it made him feel like he never really felt with anyone else before.  
  
Waya gave in and let his eyes wander over to Isumi's. He nodded and swallowed a little hard, noting blankly how Isumi's breathing was just as uneven as his. The smaller Pro was at a loss. Those dark eyes paralyzed him, but at the same time they spurred him on.  
  
Isumi moved a little closer to Waya, his hand resting absently next to Waya's folded legs. He leaned over on his shaking hand, and suddenly the pressure was too much. He lifted himself up on his knees a little, and tilted his head the way he saw them do in movies. He brushed his lips lightly against Isumi's, his eyes half lidding. The older boy's eyes widened a little, and he sat, transfixed, as Waya licked his lips.  
  
"Oishi." Waya whispered lowly, and then pressed himself up to Isumi with such force that the taller boy fell back on his haunches, his legs on either side of Waya's. Waya kissed Isumi a little deeper now, urging the older boy a little shakily with a flick of his tongue. Isumi snapped to full awareness and parted his lips a little, his own tongue darting out to brush against Waya's surprisingly soft lips.  
  
The kiss was slow and it deepened with each exquisite second, until the two broke apart, both flustered and in awe.  
  
Isumi's smoldering eyes turned from satisfied to hungry and unsure. Waya's clear green eyes stared back at him, into him, and suddenly he felt so much heavier. He took in Waya's wild appearance, his normally tousled hair seeming more untamed, his bright green eyes turned dark with need...and with something else. Was it love? Waya was beaming.  
  
But it scared Isumi. It scared him that his long time best friend was kneeling between his legs, scared him how easily he wanted to give in to himself and take the younger boy, make him his, never let him go. The intensity overtook him, and he stifled back tears.  
  
Waya's eyes pierced Isumi with a force so strong that it was almost tangible, and he lifted shaky hands to cup the older boy's face. He leaned in and lapped at the sad droplet on Isumi's blushing cheeks, tears of his own welling up in those intense green eyes. He buried his head in the older boy's neck, his arms grasping around Isumi's heaving chest, and he meshed himself hard to the older boy.  
  
Isumi instantly responded. He cradled Waya's frame with his own, one of his lax legs wrapping lightly around Waya's. He cried fresh tears and raked his hands through Waya's soft hair, mumbling incoherent words of comfort. He broke down and kissed Waya's temple, whispering 'I'm sorry' over and over into the boy's fragrant hair.  
  
Waya pulled away from Isumi a little, head arching back so that he could look his closest friend in the eyes. His shoulders shook, but he managed to speak.  
  
"Don't think." Waya's hands wandered to Isumi's chest, where he grabbed the fabric of Isumi's dark blue shirt with a sort of needy intensity. "Let me be with you."  
  
Isumi's eyes softened at the younger Pro's tone, and his heart swelled with a hundred and ten emotions. He brushed the back of his hand against Waya's cheek.  
  
"Say you'll never leave me." Waya leaned into his hand.  
  
Isumi stared at Waya for a second, the thought of saying that puzzling him. How long ago had he promised himself that he'd never leave Waya? In that instant, he felt as though he'd made that oath at the start of forever. He leaned closer and brushed his lips against Waya's ear.  
  
"I'll never, ever leave you." Isumi felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders. He kissed Waya's cheek, then pressed their foreheads together, his eyes locked on the younger boy's.  
  
"Never. I..." He paused, swept up in the awe of the moment. Their ragged breathing seemed to come in time, and he could swear he heard Waya's heartbeat. He shuddered, the warmth from his core pervading his entire being.  
  
"I think I'm falling in love." Waya finished for him. The two met in a soul binding kiss, this one more powerful than the first, driven by the force of their equally intense need. Idle hands wandered, and the two began a dance-like game.  
  
The two broke apart, stared at each other, mesmerized by the beauty that was their bond, and started up again. Waya tore through Isumi's clothing, rendering the taller boy senseless with butterfly kisses, little teasing nips.  
  
Isumi managed to discard Waya's shirt, and happily repaid the younger boy, carving a meandering trail down the smaller boy's slender abdomen with his tongue. He fumbled with the buttons on Waya's green camouflage pants, and as soon as Waya had freed himself of those, he went for Isumi's jeans.  
  
The two managed to tumble into Isumi's bed, both exposed and a little unsure. More searing kisses came as they intertwined slick limbs and succumbed to their want for one another. Both boys didn't blink, too afraid to loose the moment like they had so many dreams before. When they were finished, they held each other, chests heaving, listening to the communal beating of their hearts. Waya drifted off to sleep with the words 'I love you' on his lips, and all Isumi could think of as he drifted off himself was that this must be heaven.  
  
***  
  
"Yeah, mom. Yes... Yes. We were playing Go." Waya sat in Isumi's kitchen, wearing nothing but an oversized pair of jeans and a large grin. "Yes. Do you mind? I'll be back later...maybe six or seven?" Isumi watched with mild interest as Waya twirled the phone cord around his fingers. "Thanks, mom. Bye."  
  
"You look happy." Isumi said softly, leaning against the counter beside Waya.  
  
Waya laughed and kissed the older Pro playfully. "I think I should be!" He curled himself up against Isumi's bare chest. Isumi wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, his skin searing pleasantly where it contacted Waya's. Waya sighed contentedly and added thoughtfully: "Isumi-san, I... I...what I said last night..."  
  
Waya looked up at Isumi, his face suddenly serious. Isumi ran his fingers down Waya's cheek and smiled. "I know." Isumi leaned closer, and the two shared a slow, lingering kiss. "Me, too."  
  
***  
  
Owarimashita ze! 


End file.
